


and i wouldn't believe it if it weren't for...

by besully (Briar_Elwood)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Day One, Geraskier Week, M/M, Soulmates, fortune tellers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briar_Elwood/pseuds/besully
Summary: Geraskier Week Day One: Soulmates“Read your fortune, sir?”Geralt frowns in disgust ( fortune tellers ) and wrenches his wrist free. “No thank you.” He turns away, but he can hear the woman scramble after him.“You need to hear what I have to say!”“I’m sure I don’t.”“Even if it’s about Jaskier?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 529





	and i wouldn't believe it if it weren't for...

The town they’ve stopped in is isolated from the rest of the Continent in a way Geralt’s never seen before. There’s no look of recognition as he walks through the streets, no whispers of “damn Butcher”. It would be refreshing if it wasn’t so disconcerting. Geralt leaves Jaskier at the inn, Jaskier already pulling his lute down and starting a familiar tune, to go find a tailor. His last hunt had left his clothes in a state of disrepair, so much so even Geralt had to admit it was time for a new set or two.

His head bowed in an attempt to look smaller (because even though no one seems to recognize him, he’s still getting stares), he makes his way through the town swiftly when a small hand suddenly wraps around his wrist with a surprisingly strong grasp. Geralt turns on his heel, free hand going to his sword on instinct, stopping when he realizes it’s just a small old lady looking up at him with a wizened look on her face.

“Read your fortune, sir?”

Geralt frowns in disgust ( _ fortune tellers _ ) and wrenches his wrist free. “No thank you.” He turns away, but he can hear the woman scramble after him.

“You need to hear what I have to say!”

“I’m sure I don’t.”

“Even if it’s about Jaskier?”

Geralt slows, turning back to look curiously at the woman. “How do you know that name?” If they didn’t recognize Geralt here, how would they know about Jaskier? Their fame these days seemed to go hand in hand.

The crone’s face breaks into a terrible smile, and she holds out a hand. Slowly, with great trepidation, Geralt gives her his hand. The woman traces the lines on his palm gently, making little sounds of interest. Geralt grits his teeth, growing quickly impatient.

“I see two men. Brothers, not in blood but by bond. No,” she says quickly, leaning in to look closer. “Not brothers. More.” She twists his hand to a different angle, Geralt grunting at the force behind the action, and squints at his hand. Finally she lets go and takes a step back, looking up at Geralt with a curious look on her wrinkled face. Geralt frowns at her, annoyed.

“What?”

The woman smiles crookedly. “You may have bound yourself to the sorceress, witcher, but the bard is bound to your soul itself. He is your soulmate.”

Geralt stares at her blankly, unable to process the gravity of her words. The crone grins grossly again, turns, and disappears into the bustle.

* * *

When Geralt finally returns to the inn it’s late and most of the patrons have either gone to their rooms or gone home. Geralt glances around for Jaskier but concludes the bard must’ve gone to their room for the night. His  _ soulmate _ . Geralt is thoroughly distracted by the implications of that term as he enters the room.

“You didn’t, by any chance, chose a color other than black, did you?” Jaskier says conversationally. A beat, and then, “Geralt, are you okay?”

Geralt looks up with a start as Jaskier approaches, a hand outstretched toward the witcher. Jaskier halts, looking unnerved.

“You look spooked,” he says warily. “Which, on you, is frankly terrifying.”

Geralt shakes him off. “Hm.” He can feel Jaskier’s gaze stick to him as he turns to their bags to stuff his new clothes away.

“What happened?”

Geralt sighs and glances at Jaskier. “I met a fortune teller.”

Jaskier scoffs. “Hacks, the lot of them.”

Geralt frowns at Jaskier, assessing. “You think so?”

Jaskier’s amusement melts away. “Yeah. Why? What did she say?”

“Hm,” Geralt hums, turning away again, grabbing his steel sword and whetstone. He sits down on the bed, honing in on the sword in his lap, and setting to work. Jaskier does have a point. Fortune tellers had a reputation of being full of shit. And any person off the street could roll their eyes up their head and pretend to see the future. But still.

“What’s wrong, Geralt? Talk to me.”

Geralt grits his teeth, keeping his eyes trained on the whetstone. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“Uh--I guess,” Jaskier says haltingly. “I mean. In a way. I don’t think every person has a perfect someone out there, but I do believe certain people are so… compatible there isn’t really a-- a better word, I suppose.”

“Hm.”

“Why?” Jaskier asks, sitting in the chair across from Geralt. “Did… did she tell you who your soulmate is?” His voice brightens. “Who is it?”

“Hm.”

“Is it Yennefer?” There’s a sour note in the question Geralt recognizes well.

“No.”

That seems to stump Jaskier. “Well who then?”

Geralt chews on the inside of his cheek. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Clearly it does since it’s got you all bothered like this.”

The whetstone’s movement halts in Geralt’s hand, and he glances up at Jaskier again. He looks so sincere, so concerned, so human. A witcher and a human. No, there was no way they were compatible like that. Jaskier was so bright and lively, Geralt so… not. Geralt shakes his head, returning to sharpening his sword.

“Even if soulmates do exist, fortune tellers are all hacks, right?” he says. “So she was just spewing bullshit.”

Jaskier seems to consider that. “Fair point.” After a moment he stands up and walks over to their bags, rummaging through them. Geralt relaxes. Soon enough this whole experience would be forgotten. There was nothing to trouble himself over.

“This place is weird,” Jaskier says conversationally as he digs through their belongings. “I played ‘Toss a Coin’ and not a single person recognized it. I barely got any coin tonight.”

Geralt looks up at Jaskier’s back with wide eyes.

_ “Even if it’s about Jaskier?” _

“Hey, why did you even listen to that fortune teller in the first place?”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ loralielo


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